Emeto
by Semi-Retired Writer
Summary: Self-indulgent VLD Whumpmas 2017 prompt fill. Keith sickfic with emeto and minor caretaking.


**Indigestion**

In space, time was hard to tell, and on Earth it was hard to care, so when Keith awoke in the pitch darkness of the castle's simulated "night" time, he quickly summarized the time to himself as "ass o'clock" and moved on to more important matters.

Shiro snored rhythmically to his left, clearly unbothered by Keith's sudden alertness, and speaking of sudden alertness, it was only a simple matter of seconds before Keith realized it was his stomach that had decided to wake him at ass o'clock. A few more seconds ticked by sitting in bed after this realization before Keith's sluggish mind fully understood the logical next step was to make his way to the paladins' common bathroom _before_ the inevitable occurred rather than sitting still in his bed. While Keith had never been a fan of puking, he had a strange sense of calm matter-of-factedness for now, and he was going to cling onto that feeling as long as he could manage.

He turned and lowered one leg then the other off the bed, moving as gently as his protesting stomach allowed to avoid waking Shiro; he might be calm now, but he could all-too-easily imagine his embarrassment at having Shiro—or anyone else for that matter—see him in a moment of weakness like this. Assured that Shiro was still peacefully asleep, Keith padded his way to the door. It opened with a soft _swish_ , and a dull ray of light from the hallway almost betrayed his escape. One last glance toward Shiro showed that Keith had been lucky enough to avoid waking him, however. He shut the door to his room behind him and turned to the left, still trying to step quietly in case any of the others were awake. Pidge was thankfully to the right of his bedroom, and Shiro's room was obviously unoccupied for the night, leaving Lance's and Hunk's rooms to be wary of. Unfortunately, a more insistent twinge from his stomach and a sudden breathy burp told Keith that he no longer had the luxury of taking this trip so slowly. Clutching his stomach with the smallest of hopes that it would actually ease his discomfort, he restarted his journey more quickly than before.

Normally, the paladins' bathroom was by no means far, but it felt like miles away tonight, and Keith tried to pull himself together long enough to debate the merits of running—with the risks of rousing the others or pushing his already suffering stomach to its limits even sooner—versus keeping up his walking pace—with its own questionably likely risk of not making it in time and making a mess.

Seeing no good choice, he opted for the moderate approach and upped his pace a little while trying to remain gentle on his aching stomach for the last 50 feet… 40 feet… 30 feet—and only at the halfway point did Keith realize this choice wasn't working quite so well either as a sudden gag cut off his previously quiet trip.

Keith wasn't sure there was any God but he thanked all the ones he knew of just in case when he realized the gag was unproductive. Thinking quickly, he darted the remaining few feet to Shiro's empty room, making a beeline for the general vicinity of the trash can he knew was there while hoping that no one had heard the commotion he'd made in the hallway. He felt around for the bin and pulled it close enough to hover over. It had become difficult to get a good sense of the nausea and he couldn't tell if his body was calming down or if he was approaching the verge of losing it. He'd thought he'd been relatively self-aware when he'd woken, but thinking back now, he didn't even have any idea how long it had even been since he'd left Shiro. Come to think of it, he'd never even questioned what brought on this episode in the first place. All he really knew at the moment was that it was still ass o'clock plus or minus some indeterminate amount of time, he was more tired than he'd ever felt, he'd only felt this sick on a few rare occasions in his life, and he was desperately lonely now, involuntarily reminded of his months spent in the desert shack. He longed to go back to his room and be with Shiro, but it was too much to bear the thought of making himself look so weak in front of Shiro, so instead he wobbled over to Shiro's bed with the trash can in tow and pulled the pillow toward his face, struggling to catch the scent of Shiro without straying too far from the trash can. This was better, but it just didn't compare to the real thing, so Keith whimpered and rearranged himself more comfortably on the bed while silently pleading for the pangs in his stomach to just _go away_. He'd prefer not to puke in the first place, but there were a lot of things he'd be willing to do right now to get rid of the still intensifying nausea. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on _not_ feeling his body's signals at all…

He darted up again, questioning for the second time tonight what time it was. It was clearly still part of the castle's night time period, but Keith could tell he'd fallen asleep at least for a little while, only to be awakened by his stomach more forcefully than last time he noticed as he felt another unproductive gag. The sound was uncomfortably loud in the empty bedroom, and keeping his volume in mind, he bit back a moan that was roughly twenty percent pain and eighty percent annoyance with his own body. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the first place, but judging by his now roiling stomach the sleep hadn't helped him to feel better in the slightest. His mouth felt too dry now, and he had to close his eyes to hide his view of the room spinning ever so slightly around him. He was torn between laying back down to try to ease the dizziness or staying upright in case he vomited, but he was caught in an internal debate with no clear winning side and again fell for the middle-ground decision of not changing positions at all.

 _I should move to the bathroom_ , he thought, and yet in the bed he stayed, swaying slightly with eyes still squeezed shut. It was his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva that finally prompted Keith to move to dangle his head over the edge of the bed, aiming for what he hoped was the trash can he'd dragged over earlier. It was too dark to see anything, but at this point he couldn't focus enough to care much, and he opened his mouth enough to let the pooled saliva fall below him. It helped with the nauseous feeling, but not nearly as much as he'd have liked, and the idea of moving away from his current position seemed distinctly stupid so he remained hovering, not bothering to even close his mouth.

Another loud gag came, another failure on the part of his stomach. It was a strain on his arms to support hanging his upper body over the edge of the bed like this, and he felt the beginnings of a light sweat because, of course, he had to be even _more_ uncomfortable than he'd already been. His ears rang as the dizziness grew worse, and he tried to lower himself as gently as possible so that he was laying with only his head over the edge of the bed… only to be interrupted by a more substantial retch that sent him diving vaguely toward where he thought the trash bin was as he finally felt vomit rising, feeling thick against his throat. The food goo wasn't great in the first place, but Keith was discovering that it was even worse secondhand. He tried not to continue noticing feelings as he threw up, preferring _not_ to have to think about such things when he was still feeling nauseous, even as his stomach resolved the matter.

The vomiting stopped much more quickly than it began, and Keith felt less nauseous than before, but he still felt his stomach's unease and counted on not being done for the night yet. Still, at least he no longer felt so awful that he couldn't move.

Now that he wasn't so distracted by the nausea, he could feel the sweat cooling on his skin and he shivered, wishing he'd worn something heavier than a simple t-shirt to bed. The room wasn't spinning anymore, though he did have the sense of the world tilting when he first pulled himself to the far edge of the bed and slowly stood up. He gave himself a few moments to adjust and let the feeling fade before he stepped toward the light switch. While he didn't think the bright lights would feel the best for his tired eyes, he did need to check if he needed to clean up before the others woke up; no way in hell was he getting caught sleeping next to a puddle of his own sick, no matter how ill he felt.

Soon enough he reached the light switch and closed his eyes before he flipped it to ease the adjustment to the new brightness. He gave himself a few seconds before he opened them, relieved to find that while he'd partially missed during his struggles, he'd mostly managed to hit his target. This was manageable if it was still as early in the morning as he guessed it was, but it would have to wait because he was pretty sure he couldn't handle cleaning his own vomit off the floor without sparking another wave of vomit right now. For now, he needed to get to the bathroom instead of making a bigger mess, and he'd deal with this problem later before anyone noticed. He watched to make sure he wasn't going to touch the edge of the bin he'd made a mess on while he grabbed it just in case there were any more incidents on his way to the bathroom. This would be awkward to explain if he ran into anybody, but he was tired of having mental debates with no good answer, so he just went with his impulse to carry it with him to be safe.

For the second time tonight, he opened the bedroom door—less carefully now that he didn't have to avoid waking Shiro—and he glanced each way before he stepped into the hallway and restarted his original journey to the bathroom. It was much easier than it had seemed earlier in the night, and he didn't find himself counting what seemed like endless steps this time. Even walking slowly to minimize the chances of waking the others, it couldn't have taken more than a minute total, and his stomach didn't seem to have gotten worse during the trip.

The paladins' bathroom was similar to the dorm bathrooms all the paladins knew from the Garrison: a row of toilet stalls on one side of the room, a few sinks in the middle, and a row of simple showers on the far side of the room, and normally Keith didn't have any complaints about this setup—aside from one awkward encounter with Pidge as she was leaving the showers—but now he couldn't lose the worry that someone would come in and find him here. He started toward one of the toilet stalls before an idea hit him: if he pretended he was showering, he'd be safely hidden even if someone else _did_ walk in to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, his sickness-addled brain latched onto the idea and ran with it and current Keith mentally celebrated his own genius with no knowledge of how future Keith would resent him. He wondered what to do with the trash can considering that it was full of a horrid mixture of last night's dinner and Shiro's trash; he thought about hiding it in a separate shower stall but then worried about Shiro or someone else walking in and finding it there. He did _not_ want to explain that one to his teammates. He settled for placing it in the far corner of his shower stall with a disgusted shudder, and he repositioned the shower head to avoid hitting the bin while he "showered." He stripped down and left his clothes outside the shower, finally able to turn on the water. Although the shower was supposed to be a ruse, now that he was here, a hot shower did seem like it might help settle the nausea without having to deal with another round of puking. He could stand to rinse off the stale sweat from the anticipation of throwing up earlier, and the warm water was especially soothing when he was feeling so off. It was too bad he couldn't have stopped inside his bedroom first to grab his shampoo and soap, but this was still nice. He was thankful as he felt the nausea ebbing away as the minutes passed.

Until someone walked in. He hadn't felt perfectly back to normal, but he'd definitely receded past the point of believing he'd actually vomit again before that. Now, the worry about whoever it was noticing him and asking questions seemed to upset his stomach all over again. It was too late now to just stay quiet and pretend not to be in the shower; whoever this was had definitely had plenty of opportunity to hear the water slapping against the tile by now.

"Yo!" Keith quietly groaned at the sound of Lance's voice. "We're not supposed to be up for like four vargas. Who showers in the middle of the night!?" Lance was clearly in a joking around mood, but Keith didn't know how long he could avoid losing the rest of his dinner if Lance decided to stay and socialize at what was apparently roughly two in the morning in Earth time.

"It's me," he half-yelled, half-said over the dividing wall for the showers. "Woke up and couldn't sleep, sooooo…" He trailed off, hoping he could bore Lance out of the bathroom. Having to yell a little over the sound of the water wasn't exactly doing his stomach any favors, but he didn't want Lance to come any closer. The guy could be such a pain in the ass that Keith wouldn't feel too bad if he spread this to Lance—if it was even an illness in the first place—but the closer Lance got, the harder it would be to cover it up if the worst started to happen.

"Ha!" Lance laughed. "You may think you're better than me in combat, but I _know_ I'm better than you at sleeping!" It was a weak taunt, but Keith knew faking mild outrage would end this encounter the quickest. Their relationship was different from what he had with most people, and he knew his half-yelled, "Fuck off, Lance!" wouldn't be taken badly by the blue paladin.

He hoped Lance hadn't figured anything out, but his quieter, "Whatever, dude," was just a little out of character. It was concerning, but at least Lance would leave now. Whatever peace he'd had was now thoroughly destroyed, and he felt the same stomach pangs from earlier, too painful to get out of his mind. He struggled to hold onto his focus long enough to make sure Lance's footsteps were getting far enough away to be out of hearing range, but it was hard to tell much over the sound of the water. It was worrisome, but it was unlikely Lance of all people was standing _anywhere_ quietly, so he was going to have to accept that most likely he was now alone.

It was just in time, he found out with a sudden gag. God, he hoped Lance was actually gone, but even if he wasn't, he would've already heard that, so Keith abandoned his need for privacy. He was dizzy again—or maybe the shower stall really _was_ spinning around him slowly—and he let the next gag happen without a battle. Maybe if he just went with the flow, it would be over with more quickly this time. The calmness from earlier had faded, especially during his encounter with Lance, and he could feel his heart beating fast; as much as he wanted it to just happen already, he also really didn't want to puke. Puking was never enjoyable. Having to feel yourself lose all control over your own body? No thank you, nope, nuh uh. He wasn't a fan of this nervousness either though, so he tried to calm himself down by focusing on taking less shallow breaths.

He wrapped one arm around his tender stomach only to quickly reach the other hand to steady himself on the shower wall as the dizziness became more akin to vertigo. Unfortunately, one hand can only do so much to support roughly 150 pounds of Keith, and he found himself falling to a sitting position on the shower floor. At any other time, he might have considered how gross the shower floor probably was, but now he could only be grateful that the dizziness was a little better while he was sitting.

He pitched forward as a retch caught him off guard, and there was the rest of his dinner splattered across the tiled floor and his own legs. Keith only had a couple seconds to incredulously stare at his previously clean legs before his body was on auto-pilot, pulling himself onto his hands and knees right before he threw up again, this time at least managing not to hit himself. He had a few more seconds of reprieve before another retch brought even more vomit, and this time his stomach felt blessedly empty, though maybe that was just wistful thinking. Although he didn't think he was quite up to it yet, he slowly pushed himself back up to a standing position, clutching his aching stomach with a hand once more while reaching to direct the shower head to clean up the mess he had made. He truly regretted not bringing soap with him now because there was no way he was going to feel clean after that experience until he had a real shower. At least he'd managed to visibly rinse the sick away; it wasn't ideal, but it was a huge step above having to see and smell his own vomit while he was still waiting for the nausea to fully fade.

On the positive side of things, it did feel like the nausea was slowly but surely receding. The dizziness had stayed, however, and it had come back with a vengeance when he'd stood up, even moving as slowly and carefully as he had. While it had been annoying to have the stall slowly spinning around him before, it was flat out disconcerting to see the spinning seem to get so fast. His vision was blurring, and suddenly he was sitting on the tiled floor again. When did that happen? He definitely didn't remember doing that. He tried to will the spinning away, but no amount of willpower seemed to be any help.

Keith woke to hands under his armpits… dragging him? Why was someone dragging him? He was so tired, and whatever they wanted could wait… Clearly, they didn't think so though. He moaned indistinctly, hoping whoever this was would be able to translate the sound to the "Fuck off" he was going for. They made some sounds back at him, but they made about as much sense as Allura that one time the automatic translation system on the ship had gone down for a few hours, so Keith didn't even bother to respond to whatever nonsense the person had just spewed at him. Maybe it was Allura and the translations were failing again. He wished once more that they'd stop dragging him and was surprised when they did. Had he said that aloud…? Were they reading his mind…? It was a mystery, but he was a bit more comfortable now. He still didn't know why they dragged him out of his bed and onto what felt like a concrete floor… That didn't seem right…?

With more effort than he'd expected to need, he pried his eyes open. He was immediately blinded by the ceiling lights and figured that yes, he really was on the floor. This was probably Lance being an ass as a joke again, and he felt himself starting to get angry with the other paladin. He wasn't completely sure though, and he'd have to open his eyes again to find out.

He didn't feel like doing that, but after a small pause and a groan, he opened his eyes again, this time rolling his head to the left to avoid looking straight into the lights above. Nope, no one there. He rolled his head to the right instead and was surprised to find Hunk, who usually tried to convince Lance not to do these kinds of things to Keith. His expression must have betrayed his annoyance before he could say anything because Hunk immediately put his hands up as though to convince an animal he wasn't going to hurt it. Keith didn't know what was going on, but he _did_ know he didn't want to lay around on the floor of the… bathroom? That seemed to ring bells in his mind, but he couldn't figure out why at the moment so he shrugged it off and started to push himself into a sitting position. The room began to spin and he decided that maybe it wasn't the best idea to continue to the point of standing up right now.

"Hey, man. Take it easy," Hunk suggested, oddly gently for someone who may or may not have been manhandling him half a minute ago. Keith's quizzical look prompted him to continue quickly enough. "I found you on the shower floor. I know I'm not the leader here, but I don't think you should be wandering around alone right now, and I won't take no for an answer when I offer to walk you back to your room."

The words brought back blurry memories, and Keith struggled to find anywhere to look but Hunk's face. He'd only rarely had anyone outwardly care about him, and it was impossible to know what to do when it happened. "I'm fi—" he tried to start before Hunk was interrupting him.

"Nope!" He didn't quite shout the forceful interruption. "You're not fine." He punctuated each syllable with a light jab to Keith's chest. "You're sick, and I'm not letting you make it worse by refusing simple help. You're going to let me walk you to your room, and I'm going to give Shiro a quick lecture about the importance of watching out for our loved ones especially when they're as hard-headed as _someone_ around here, and then I'm going to pick out some clean comfy clothes for you to wear and make sure you have water and a few small snacks and a place to throw up if that happens again. No arguments."

Keith stared, dumbfounded and mortified for a few seconds before he finally nodded. He stared a couple seconds longer at Hunk's outstretched hand waiting to help him up before he admitted, "I don't think I can walk right now." And so, Keith gave into embarrassment one more time as Hunk hefted him onto his own back and carried him back to his room. It was… awkward, but maybe he could get used to trusting his friends a little more.


End file.
